


A Second Chance

by loudmouthgeek



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Gen, Incomplete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudmouthgeek/pseuds/loudmouthgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn thought for sure she was dead when the truck slammed into her. Instead with some intervention she finds herself with a chance to do things differently... a second chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Something I started working on a during the hiatus after "On My Way" that I've never gotten back to. Posting it as incomplete and hoping that someone might read it and make a suggestion that will spark my creativity, or alternately to get it the hell out of my story folder.

               Quinn looked up from her cell phone just in time to see the large truck barreling towards her tiny car but not nearly in time to do anything about it. “Well,” she thought, “so much for getting my life together.”

               Then suddenly the palm of her hand hurt which was weird because she was really expecting her pain to be more widespread… and they, y’know, dying, but slowly she realized that she wasn’t in the car anymore. Where was she? The bathroom at school she quickly determined and Rachel was standing in front of her clutching her cheek… wearing her prom dress. Then Quinn realized that she too was wearing her prom dress. Was this a dream, was she dreaming about Prom Night? But that couldn’t be could it? You can’t feel pain in a dream and her hand definitely hurt. Was this a life-flashing-before-your-eyes kind of moment? If so they skipped the entire first sixteen years, not that there was much she wanted to see again, she thought. She looked at Rachel and the look on her face just destroyed Quinn. How could she have done this? “I'm so sorry,” she said.

               The scene played out exactly as Quinn remembered it. Rachel appreciated the drama of it. Quinn’s thought were all over the place, thinking that she’d just dreamed everything that came after this but that didn’t seem possible since everything was unfolding just as she remembered it. Quinn said all the same things that she’d said that night, only now her fears of what was going to happen after this was wondering if she’d been good enough to go to Heaven or if she was condemned to Hell.

               She didn’t find out. She and Rachel played out their bathroom encounter just as it had gone before and they’d gone back out to prom and finished their evening just as they had before. Maybe Quinn had danced a little closer to Rachel this time but whatever.

               Eventually the night wound down and Quinn went home… alone. Her mother was already passed out in bed when Quinn got home, just like last time. She trudged up the stairs to her room, she let her hair down, pulled off her corsage, and changed out of her dress all just like last time. If this was some near death experience it was a lame one that was going on for far too long. Quinn opted to try something. Instead of putting on her pajamas and going to bed like she’d done before, she decided to take a shower and rinse the day off of her.

               It was a shower, just like the thousands of others that she’d taken before. Nothing happened out of the ordinary, her dream or flashback or whatever this was didn’t suddenly end because she did something different. She got dressed for bed, went back into her room and turned on the TV to watch something. It was something else she hadn’t done the last time she’d lived through this night. The TV was on Comedy Central and Stephen Colbert was on. Not exactly mindless like she was hoping for but it was usually funny and that seemed like a good idea after having to sit through the worst night of her life for a second time.

               Quinn climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin and watched the show. She didn’t really follow politics that much but she’d been subjected to enough of Bill O’Reilly and Glenn Beck when her father was still around to get that he was lampooning them. She laughed several times and quickly drifted off to sleep.

               She was awakened the next morning by her cell ringing. It was Finn and she had no idea why he would be calling her so she hit ignore, but just before she could lay back down and go back to sleep she happened to glance at the date on her phone, May 11, 2011. Suddenly, she remembered the previous night. Apparently she hadn’t just relived Prom Night but now she was reliving the next day as well. Finn had called the morning after to give a lame apology. Suddenly she was intrigued; she had changed things by ignoring his call this time. This was the first change to the sequence of events that had any real chance of making real change. Finn called again almost immediately and Quinn rolled her eyes. Now she was wondering if this was her lot in life. She could change small things but would big things still turn out the way that had? Was she still bound to her fate at that intersection?

               “What?” she said harshly into the phone.

               “Okay, so you’re still mad,” Finn said, “Um, look, I'm real sorry about last night, but…” Quinn hung up on him. She was curious to see how this would play out. She was also annoyed at his pitiful apology. “I'm sorry, but…” were the three most common words that Finn Hudson’s girlfriends ever head. Not “I love you”, not “you look beautiful”, “I'm sorry, but…” and she wasn’t going to listen to it anymore this time around. He was going to break up with her soon enough anyways, so hopefully God or the universe or whoever or whatever was making her relive all this would give her a break and let her bump up their break up by a few days.

               Her phone rang again. It was Finn, again. “What?” she barked again.

               “I think we got cut off,” Finn said.

               “We got cut off because I hung up on you,” Quinn said, “I hung up on you because I'm done with you and I wasn’t interested in your shitty attempt at an apology. We both know that you’re going to leave me soon anyway, so just be glad it’s over and I spare you the trouble of breaking up with me.”

               “Quinn, that’s not true,” Finn protested, “You’re my girlfriend and I lo…” She hung up again. She didn’t want to hear it from him. Either he was lying about wanting to break up or his decision to leave her after Jean Sylvester’s funeral had so little forethought that he could just walk away from her without even a full week to ponder it which would make her feel even more like shit.

               When the phone rang again a few minutes later, Quinn almost flung the thing at a wall until she noticed it wasn’t Finn calling but Brittany. That was definitely different. Brittany didn’t call her the morning after last time. “Hey, Brittany.”

               “Hey, Q,” she said, “I'm sorry about what happened and I'm sorry I didn’t get the chance to talk to you after. I just… you know, I just had to go see about San and then after I got to dancing and you know how I am. But anyways, how are you?”

               “I'm… I'm okay,” Quinn said, “I had this fairly catastrophic breakdown in the bathroom last night, and I broke up with Finn just now but I think I'm good now. How’s Santana?”

               “She’s Santana,” Brittany said, “She’s hurting about things but she won’t talk about them. You said you were in the bathroom? Because someone told me that they heard someone in the bathroom fighting. They heard a slap or something.”

               “Oh God, someone heard us,” Quinn said, “Yeah, that was me. I sort of slapped Rachel in the face.” Brittany gasped. “I apologized right away and she said she was fine, although I don’t know how anyone could be after that. She was trying to help me like you were trying to help Santana.”

               “You should apologize again,” Brittany said quickly, which weirdly coincided with Quinn’s own thoughts on the matter. “Like just go see her and give her a hug because she likes hugs, I think.”

               “That sounds like a really good idea,” Quinn said, “I think I'm going to go do that.”

               “Okay, cool, I’ll talk to you later,” Brittany said.

               “Hey, Brittany,” Quinn said.

               “Yeah?”

               “Things are going to work out between you and Santana,” Quinn said, “You just have to be patient with her and keep trying.” Should she be using her knowledge of what was maybe the future to tell her friend that it was going to work out? Who knows, but she was pretty sure it sounded enough like encouragement rather than statement of fact that it wouldn’t matter.

               “I know,” Brittany said, “but thanks for saying. I miss us being friends. I mean, I totally know are friends but y’know, I miss us hanging out. I know we’ve all got our own stuff and we don’t always have time…”

               “We’ll make time, Brittany,” Quinn said, “I’ll give San the weekend to be pissed about Prom and then we’ll reach out to her on Monday and maybe make plans for next weekend, okay?”

               “That sounds awesome,” Brittany said.

They hung up and Quinn slowly dragged herself out of bed. She got dressed, fought with her hair, which was long again, for a while before she got annoyed at it, gave up, and tied it back in a loose ponytail. She grabbed her bag and was almost out the door when she caught sight of something, a gardenia with a light green ribbon.

She’d pulled it off last night without even thinking about it just as she had the first time through all of this, but now she couldn’t help but think about it. She picked the small flower up and turned it around in her fingers. Finn was a completely inconsiderate jackass that much was beyond doubt. The way he treated Rachel this past year… or this coming year, as it were… so how did he manage to get her the perfect corsage? Then all at once it became obvious. He had help, which to be fair to Finn at least he realized he didn’t know what the hell he was doing and asked for help, and who did he go to for help, the same person he always goes to for everything, Rachel.

**X**

An hour later Quinn was pulling up outside the Berry house. She was nervous, mostly because she’d only been here once before, for Rachel’s party, and she was showing up unannounced now, which was, strictly speaking, rude but it’s hard to surprise someone if they know you’re coming. She took a deep breath, smiled, picked up the bundle of flowers that she’d bought on the way over, and made her way up the driveway. The walk up to the front door was a steep slope that led to a solid oak door. Quinn rang the doorbell and waited… and waited. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that it was Saturday morning and that the Berrys might be out.

She was about to turn and leave when she heard a stirring inside the house. A minute later the door was opened and there stood Rachel wearing a white tank top, blue and white plaid sleep shorts, and an open pink terrycloth robe and sporting a massive case of bed head. Quinn couldn’t help but find the sight endearing and smiled. “Okay, I'm definitely still asleep,” Rachel said.

“You’re not,” Quinn corrected.

“Right, because in the real world Quinn Fabray often shows up at my door with beautiful flowers at the ungodly hour of…” Rachel looked away at something presumably to find the time.

“10:30,” Quinn supplied.

“My dads must have shut off my alarm clock,” she said standing back and holding the door open wide, “Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you,” Quinn said, passing over the threshold into the warm, homey environment that was The Berry House. Rachel closed the door behind her and Quinn held the flowers out to Rachel and said, “These are for you.”

Rachel took the flowers and said, “They’re lovely. Thank you, but might I ask what they’re for?”

“Would you mind if we sit?” Quinn asked.

“Of course,” Rachel gestured to the family room that they were standing in and the many available seating choices. Quinn sat on one end of the couch and Rachel the other. Both turned so that they could face one another.

“They’re, um, they’re kind of a peace offering,” Quinn said of the flowers, “They’re called plumerias, which apparently mean ‘a fresh start’ in the language of flowers, and that was kind of what I was hoping we could have. I’ve been thinking a lot lately and I… I'm tired of fighting with you, Rachel. I'm especially tired of fighting with you over Finn. We can both do better so the idea that he’s…” Quinn trailed off momentarily, “No, you know what, I don’t want this to be about him. It’s about you and me. I wanted to come over here today to make sure you were alright after everything that happened last night and to apologize again for hitting you. That was way, _way_ over the line and I am very sorry.” Quinn sighed. “I'm sorry for that and quite frankly for every horrible thing I’ve ever done to you. You didn’t deserve any of it. I know there’s nothing I can do to change it, but I hope that you believe I'm being sincere when I say this and that we can move on from it.”

"I'd like that," Rachel said smiling, "I'd like that very much actually. I accept your apology as well as your peace offering. Would it be too much to ask for us to try to be friends?"

"No, not at all," Quinn said, "I just thought all things considered I might be pushing my luck asking. I had a plan to build up to it."

"And what did this plan entail?"

Quinn shrugged, "Just normal stuff. I was going to see if you wanted to hang out today, maybe offer to work together on a song for Nationals, hopefully without the fighting this time."

"Yes, that would be preferable," Rachel said, "although it could be said that our fighting won us Regionals."

"Maybe," Quinn said, "but there's nothing to say there isn't a better way to get our creativity flowing."

"Indeed," Rachel agreed, "So did you have any thoughts on writing a song?"

"I'm working on something," Quinn said and immediately regretted it, because, no she wasn't. Why the hell did she say that?

"Really?" Rachel asked excitedly, "What's it about? I must admit that I've found myself at loose ends writing this time around. What's your song about?"

"It's not a song," Quinn backpedaled quickly and Rachel looked confused, "not yet, anyway. I don't have anything down on paper. It's um, it's just kind of an idea... really more like the germ of idea than an actual idea."

"Well, there's a little bistro a couple of blocks over, would you like to go have brunch and see if we can't grow this germ of an idea into a full blown, Nationals winning song?"

"I doubt it'll still be brunch time by the time you've gotten ready."

"It's only just after 10:30," Rachel said.

"You haven't looked in a mirror this morning have you?" Quinn asked.

"No, why do you ask?" Rachel questioned standing up and walking into the adjoining kitchen. A moment later, Rachel shrieked, "Oh my god! Quinn, why did you let me sit there for so long talking, having a normal conversation all the while not knowing that my hair was in such horrendous disarray?"

Quinn shrugged, smiled and said, "I don't know. I thought it was kind of endearing." Rachel gave her a skeptical look. "You just... you're always so in control of everything about yourself most of the time. I guess the idea that you struggle to control your hair too kind of humanizes you."

"Why do I feel as though you're making fun of me?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know," Quinn replied, "but I promise that I'm not."

"Very well," Rachel said, "I accept your promise. It would appear that I need a shower before being seen in public. Would like to meet me somewhere or are you okay hanging out here by yourself?"

"Um, if you trust me here by myself, then I'm fine," Quinn said.

"Why did you have to go and say it like that? Now my paranoia is flaring up."

Quinn huffed and said, "Rachel, I swear on my daughter's life that I'm not up to anything." Rachel's eyes suddenly went wide and her jaw drooped open. "What?" Quinn said and then she remembered, at this point in her life the Quinn that Rachel knew was busy trying to forget that sophomore year ever happened.

"You...you never..."

"Not often," Quinn agreed, "but I was trying to make a point. Now go get your shower."

"Okay," Rachel said in such a way as to convey that they were not nearly done talking about that subject, "Help yourself to a beverage if you like and the remote is there beside the couch."

As soon as Rachel disappeared up the stairs, Quinn knew she needed to make a list of things that hadn't happened yet. She still had no idea what was going on. She didn't know how or why she was reliving the last eight months of her life, but if she had to go through them again, she was definitely not going through them as they'd played the first time around.

**Things That Haven't Happened Yet:**

1\. Nationals - Still have time to write songs ahead of time.

2\. Santana's still in the closet - Be there for her this time, ~~murder~~ stop Finn before he can out her

3\. Rachel and Finn haven't gotten back together yet - try to prevent if possible.

4\. Haven't gone off deep end and tried to steal Beth back from Shelby - Don't do that.

5\. Haven't met Sugar, Rory, or Joe. Don’t mention them. Blaine still a Warbler. Lauren still in Glee.

6\. Sam hasn't moved yet - Try to prevent????

7\. Amy Winehouse and Whitney Houston not dead yet.

**X**

An hour later, Quinn and Rachel were sat at a small cafe waiting on their lunch to arrive. Rachel clearly had something on her mind that she was nervous about bringing up, which Quinn pretty much knew meant Finn. "I broke up with him this morning," Quinn said.

"Who?" Rachel asked before wincing at the stupidity of that question. "I mean, you did?" Quinn nodded. "Are you okay? Do you need to talk about it?"

"I'm okay," Quinn said, "Right now I'm still just so angry about last night. He knew how important prom was to me and he humiliated and embarrassed me. The break-up isn't easy but it's for the best. He's had a foot out the door since at least Regionals. Honestly, I don't think he ever really wanted to be back with me so much as he was just hurt about what you did and wanted to make you hurt too."

"That's absurd," Rachel said, "I only did what I did because he hurt me first by lying about Santana."

"I never said that he made sense," Quinn said with a shrug, "Have you talked to Jesse?"

"No, I've not heard from him," Rachel said. "If and when I do, I doubt very seriously that I'm going to take him back."

"Because you're going to get back together with Finn?"

"N-No, you and I are friends now. I couldn't do that to you," Rachel said, "Why? Do you think I should get back together with Jesse?"

"I think you should do what makes you happy, Rachel, and last night you looked really happy," Quinn said, "Happier than I've seen you in a very long time... aside from when you're singing that is." To Quinn's mind, Jesse was preferable to Finn if only because Jesse would support Rachel's dreams, unlike Finn. He also probably wouldn't propose to her much less actually try to marry her while she was still in high school.

"I don't know," Rachel said.

"And that's fine," Quinn said quickly, "We do have bigger things staring us in the face than which boys to date, after all."

"This is true," Rachel said, "Nationals and our complete lack of preparation for it. How did we let it get this far and we still have no songs?"

"Habit?" Quinn smirked. "So we need two songs for the first round and then the judges vote and the top ten get into Showcase, right?"

"Correct," Rachel said.

"Then what?" Quinn asked.

"We perform two more songs," Rachel said, "and then we win."

"So four songs, then?" Quinn clarified. "We have to write, choreograph, and rehearse four songs and have them stand up against some of the best show choirs in the country in thirteen days?"

"Basically," Rachel said.

"There's no way," Quinn said.

"There's no call to be negative, Quinn," Rachel chastised.

"I'm not being negative, Rachel. I'm being honest. A team of professional musicians and dancers would have trouble getting four songs ready in two weeks and we are well short of a team of professionals."

"So what are you saying, that we lose? That we might as well not even bother going to New York?"

"No, of course not," Quinn said, "I'm just saying that we do a lot of songs in Glee Club that never see the light of day, some of them for good reason, but others are perfectly good songs. Maybe two songs, the first round should be songs we've already rehearsed before. Not anything we've done in competition mind you, but like 'Sing' we were going to do for Regional last y… um, for Regionals but Sue sent us that fake cease-and-desist letter. Perfectly good song, although we could maybe not dress like lumberjacks this time.”

 

"So you talked to Rachel?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah," Quinn said, "We actually had lunch and started work on a song for Nationals."

"Great," Brittany said, "so you're probably wondering what's going on, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"I had to pull you out of the wreck," Brittany said, "but then I thought that things had got so messed up with me and San that I thought I should give you a chance to fix it."

"Brittany," Quinn said, "What are you talking about?"

"Sorry," she said, "I'm explaining this wrong. Q, I'm your guardian angel."

"Brittany," Quinn sighed in exasperation. "I-I don't..."

"We come in twelfth at Nationals," Brittany said and suddenly Quinn didn't know what to say, "and you dye your hair pink and pierce your nose, which is kinda hot. Me, Santana, and Mercedes leave New Directions to form a new Glee Club called The Troubletones, Finn outs Santana and acts like he was doing her a favor, and Finn and Rachel were going to get married but you got in a wreck on the way cuz you were texting when you should have been paying attention." 

"I..." Quinn began but changed tracks, "Brittany, I don't begin to understand what's going on. I don't know how or why I'm reliving the last nine months of my life or how you know about it, but..."

"I told you how. I pulled you back in time to fix things because I'm your guardian angel and I've been letting you down. I'm sorry. I got distracted with me and Santana and our drama."

"Guardian Angel? Brittany?"

"Quinn, what happens two days from now?" Brittany asked.

"Jean Sylvester dies," Quinn said.

"And before you ask, I can't do anything about that. It's just her time," Brittany said, "and what show does Rachel buy bogus tickets for in New York?"

"Cats," Quinn said.

"I know it sounds crazy, me being your guardian angel, Q, but is it any crazier than you reliving the last year?"

“So you’re really my guardian angel?” Quinn asked.

“Yep,” Brittany replied without further elaboration.

“Was I going to die in the accident?”

“I dunno,” she answers, “And I couldn’t wait to find out.”

“But I wasn’t supposed to die? Not like Jean?”

“Jean’s dying of complications of being 56 years old and having Down’s syndrome,” Brittany said, “For someone with her condition, it’s a long life. You were about to die in an accident… until I stopped it.”

“Okay,” Quinn said still processing this, “So angels walk among us.”

“Not really,” Brittany said, “It’s mostly just me. Most of the rest of them stay in heaven and try to guide you through inspiration, only intervening when absolutely necessary and even then they usually don’t let themselves be seen if they don’t have to.” There was silence between them for a couple of minutes. “You’re trying to figure out if anyone else you know isn’t human, aren’t you?”

“Santana’s not a demon is she?” Quinn asked, “You’re not like an angel and a demon in love, right?”

“No,” Brittany said, “No one else you know is supernatural… well, I think Holly Holiday may be possessed by a Chaos spirit, but that’s someone else’s problem.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, if this piques your interest let me know and maybe I'll get back into it. 
> 
> If it inspires you to write something, then feel free. Take it and run, just be sure to give me some sort of credit.


End file.
